


The White Gentleman

by Sjukdom



Series: Fifty Something, Well-Aged Wine [5]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 01:51:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6545665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sjukdom/pseuds/Sjukdom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You can”, said Jim quietly. He thought Elijah was already asleep, but he answered. </p>
<p>“What exactly?” </p>
<p>“Bring good dreams”, murmured Jim through the thickening veil of sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The White Gentleman

Jim liked this house at night. The tranquility of it, evaporating from calm and even breathing of sleeping Oswald and Elijah that silence took gently and turned little whistling sounds into another chord in its music. The sight of it, smoothed by darkness or, more likely, the darkness recovered the true sight that daylight stole with every dusk. Shadows and gloom fitted this place much more than sunbeams that spotted every crack in old ceiling and every speck of dust, falling from curtains at his clumsy touch. At day it was just another old house. At night it woke up, revived by all the stories Elijah told them; it was filled by long-forgotten voices of the people staring down from the paintings and the paintings itself came to life in the game of shadows. The oldness turned into history, the gurgling of pipes and cracking sounds the dry wallpapers made became the whispering of the ghosts they shared the house with according to Elijah. At night it was much easier for Jim to imagine transparent specters walking from room to room and looking at the sleepy faces of the living, stroking their hair with invisible hands and guiding their dreamy spirits into the worlds beyond the edge of day.

Tonight, however, Jim wasn’t honored with their visit. Oswald was fast asleep, his lips forming perfect “O” letter as if he was kissing someone in his dream. Jim kissed him back gently so he wouldn’t wake up, hoping to gather the sleep dust from his lips, but half an hour later he was still awake. He stood up and left their bedroom to walk around the house a bit. Maybe, he would be lucky to meet one of the ghosts that would lull him to sleep with its ethereal voice.

The sky was clouded and no moonlight filtered through the windows. Jim had to be cautious not to fall and chase the ghosts away and wake up the living. He hoped that at least he would be so tired he would fall asleep immediately after getting to bed. The gloom around had a velvety touch to it, so thick it hid everything under it. No silhouettes, no familiar shapes. He was walking the endless maze built from the emptiness, where space and time had no meaning. A place for fleshless souls, tiny balls of light in the great darkness.

The light flickered in front of him. Jim stopped abruptly, stumbled and nearly fell. His fantasies coming true felt disturbing in a way. He stared ahead until his eyes began to water and almost believed it was a dream, but the light appeared again, tiny flame of a candle, swaying from the strange winds blowing through the sleeping house. Jim inhaled and held his breath for a moment to calm down. He would be happy to imagine a supernatural creature, The White Gentleman illuminating a way to good dreams with the magic candle. The tale fitted Elijah that was walking up the stairs, slowly and carefully, trembling candlelight casting shadows over his closed eyes. He was walking in his sleep again and his steps were much firmer than stumbling ones of Jim who was wide awake.

He followed Elijah, not knowing whether he should wake him up or not. He was moving slowly, holding the candle with both hands as if he was going to worship some mysterious god. Jim walked a few steps behind him, ready to catch him if he suddenly lost his balance. The idea of grabbing Elijah made him uneasy for he didn’t know if he was allowed to touch him in this way yet. The sleep did nothing to his posture and his face kept the same calm and dignified expression. Jim started to believe he would ascend without any troubles, but when Elijah stepped in the corridor of the second floor the drop of wax rolled down the candle onto his hand. The burning feeling was strong enough for Elijah to stop and open his eyes, squinting at the door of his bedroom ahead of him.

Jim hurried to take the candle from Elijah’s immovable hands and wipe away the wax with his fingers. The white drop turned warm and hard and broke in his hands, falling into small pieces that left an oily feeling on his skin. Elijah glanced at him, now completely awake and obviously surprised to see Jim near him.

“Sorry”, said Jim, straightening himself and rubbing his hands to get rid of the wax. “I didn’t see it was going to-”

“Everything is fine, James”, said Elijah soothingly as if he wasn’t the one who got burned. “It doesn’t hurt too much, don’t you know?”

The hint made Jim’s cheeks burn all by themselves.

“What are you doing here at this time of night?” asked Elijah. His voice turned this awkward situation into an ordinary thing and Jim started to relax. Elijah had this kind of confidence that made you feel comfortable and calm in any circumstances. Jim admired this.

“I couldn’t sleep, decided to walk around a bit and met you here.”

“You cannot sleep?” Elijah raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “That’s not nice, James.”

Jim waited, holding the candle carefully so that its waxy tears weren’t able to cause further damage.

“Come with me, you need to rest”, Elijah motioned to his bedroom and went towards it. Jim followed him after a moment of hesitation, surprised with this sudden invitation and afraid a bit. And excited. He wished for so long to get closer to Elijah and now hoped he wouldn’t do something inappropriate or ridiculous. He didn’t want Elijah to laugh at him or get mad. Jim tried to show his good sides before, caring about Oswald and Elijah himself when he permitted, though every time he had this little teasing smile on his lips that confused Jim and aroused him and made him try even harder. The sudden feeling of being cared of was weird, but pleasant in a way. Would he have a chance to get used to it?

“Is Oswald sleeping?” asked Elijah carefully, letting Jim into his bedroom. He looked around, trying to get as much of it as he could in the light of the candle that was still burning in his hand. He remembered that he had been asked a question and nodded hastily. In the gloom he could see the outlines of a big bed and asked himself whether he would be let in there for real for he still wasn’t sure how he was supposed to rest. 

"Careful, James, you can get burned”, Elijah said, nodding in the direction of the candle. He bent forward a little and blew softly, making the flame tremble and dance wildly before it went out. The complete darkness returned, closing itself above their heads like deep black waters. Jim breathed in the smell of wax and smoke and gave a jerk, when Elijah touched his elbow. 

“Come here, let me make you comfortable.” 

Elijah seemed to be able to see through the darkness, guiding Jim through the room, as if he really was the creature he imagined, The White Gentleman in his long ivory robe. Jim hesitated before lowering himself onto the bed, with its gorgeous coverlets and bed linen that kept the smell of Elijah in them, as delicate and hard to catch as the scent of dry flowers. He positioned himself awkwardly at the edge, risking to slip from it eventually, but Elijah took him by his shoulders and pulled him closer. He covered Jim with a blanket and leant back, smiling at him. Jim couldn’t see his smile, but anyway felt it, warmth washing over him as if he was lying right near the fireplace. He shifted himself, not sure if he wanted to press himself to Elijah or back away from him. He hoped his heartbeat wasn’t heard around the whole house. 

“Is everything right?” Elijah asked him. 

“Yes”, Jim managed to answer using his voice, though it had a quivering tone in it. He felt the urge to pull the blanket over his face like he did when he was a child. He could pretend he was a child again, sharing the bed with a loving parent if it wasn’t for the thing that Elijah wasn’t his parent, but Oswald’s and Jim’s feelings now were far from childish. He remembered their previous moments of intimacy, however brief and one-sided and much more explicit than just lying in the bed together. None of them made him as hard as he was now. 

“Have you seen me sleepwalking for the first time?” Elijah kept on asking questions. Maybe, he was too alone in his world between sleep and awake and wanted to talk more than usual. Talk to Jim, in particular, which made it even more unusual. 

“Yes, but I know that you do it from time to time. Oswald told me”, Jim paused, but then went on, unable to keep it to himself. “When I saw you there on the stairs I had a strange thought. Something like a tale, actually. About a creature in the white robe that illuminates a way to good dreams with the candle. I called it The White Gentleman.” 

In any other circumstances Jim would prefer to keep his mouth shut and not make a fool of himself, but right now it seemed a right thing to do, to share his fantasy. He was still worried that Elijah would laugh at him and the arousal was probably the wrong state for telling tales, but… But still he wasn’t embarrassed that he had actually said it aloud. Elijah didn’t laugh. He reached out and patted Jim’s head, lightly at first, then stroked his hair, smoothing his thick overgrown locks with his fingers. Jim sighed with pleasure. 

“Beautiful story”, said Elijah and touched his cheek with the tips of his fingers. Jim felt his cock twitching with every touch, the front of his pajama pants getting wet and sticky with drops of pre-cum. “I wish I really could bring good dreams. Or sleep in general.” 

Jim shifted himself again, because Elijah’s fingers continued their descend, sliding across his neck and chest, pausing above his heart. The White Gentleman’s fingers could easily go through his flesh like through melted wax and caress his heart, the ever contracting strong organ as tenderly as the slicked head of his cock. Jim squeezed the blanket in his fists and bit his lip, when Elijah’s hand slid into his pants and began to stroke him slowly. He waited for Elijah to move his hand faster, but he kept the same pace. Jim let out a quiet moan and started to thrust in Elijah’s fist, moving his hips back and forth. The sleeves of Elijah's robe tickled his underbelly, the lazy circling movements he made around his pulsating cock were enough for his tired sleep-deprived body to submit and let go. 

Elijah removed his hand only after he came, spilling his hot semen over his stomach and over Elijah's palm. Jim caught his breath and looked up. He could see just the silhouette of Elijah, staring at his hand, glistening with Jim’s come. Jim hastened to mutter quiet “sorry”, took his hand and licked his sperm from it. He tasted of salt and candle wax. 

“Thank you, James”, said Elijah, reached out and took a napkin to wipe his palm. He gave another napkin to Jim so he could clean himself. After that he tucked the blanket around Jim’s neck and placed a light kiss on his sweaty forehead. 

“Let’s try to get some sleep now.”

Jim tried to catch his lips with his own, but Elijah already backed away and lowered himself on the pillow. On the same pillow, where Jim’s head was. He breathed in Elijah’s scent, mixed with his own, sweat and sperm and that goddamn wax. He was a candle. A candle in Elijah’s hand, in the hand of The White Gentleman, burning and dropping with white hot liquid, finally being touched and held for real. 

“You can”, said Jim quietly. He thought Elijah was already asleep, but he answered. 

“What exactly?” 

“Bring good dreams”, murmured Jim through the thickening veil of sleep.


End file.
